


Scarlet Boy

by luvluna



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (to avoid spoilers), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Art Student Keith, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blood and Violence, Character Death In Dream, Dreams vs. Reality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Engineer Student Lance, Eventual Smut, Gay Keith (Voltron), Graphic Description, Kissing, M/M, Murder Mystery, Opposites Attract, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychic Abilities, Visions in dreams, When isn't Shiro missing, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 00:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvluna/pseuds/luvluna
Summary: In which a troubled and introverted art student (Keith) meets a rambunctious yet infuriatingly attractive science student (Lance). Except, Keith had a vivid dream about Lance before they'd even met.





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> _“Red is the color of life. It's blood, passion, rage. Beginnings and violent end. Red is the color of love. Beating hearts and hungry lips. Roses, Valentines, cherries. Red is the color of shame. Crimson cheeks and spilled blood. Broken hearts, opened veins. A burning desire to return to white.” - Mary Hogan_  
>   
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>  
> 
>    
> Note: This fic will contain instances of graphic depictions of violence and mature sexual content. I'll post warnings at the beginning notes. 
> 
> **Chapter Warning: This chapter contains brief mentions of blood and stab wounds.**

 

All he saw was red.

It was murder; even from a distance, that much was clear. Stab wounds decorated the victim’s frigid body, from his upper chest to his slim thighs. It was a boy, and he didn’t appear much older than twenty, perhaps even younger. His clothes were so saturated by the crimson pool he lied in, it was difficult to discern exactly how many wounds there were. The scene was fresh, and the room smelled of bitter copper. Some of the color was still left in his face.

The crime was personal, and the air was sour with abhorrence. It wasn’t merely a random act of crime. It was murder, and this murder contained a very strong sense of purpose. However, two crucial pieces appeared absent from the scene: the setting and less surprisingly, the culprit.

Looking around, everything was white. Aside from the wet, red mess sprawled across the floor, nothing was visible. No trees, no walls, no buildings, no people, nothing. It was as if this body had been placed into an empty space, where nothing but death was relevant.

He tried to get a closer look at the boy.

Wispy hair of a golden brown framed the rich, warm skin of his angular face. His skin probably glowed under livelier conditions. Both eyes remained open in his lifeless state, revealing a set of blue eyes, just a shade darker than the Pacific. Closer inspection also revealed soft freckles concentrated upon the bridge of his small nose. A slight mole sat beneath the left of his thin lips.

Despite his bloody state, his face was untouched by the chaos below his neck. He was undoubtedly beautiful.

 

***

 

“Keith! Are you awake yet?! Keith!!” A nagging sound echoed through his dream, jolting him awake. His eyes flung open, but his body remained paralyzed from the nightmare. He heaved heavily and he was drenched in a cold sweat. Keith stayed perfectly incapacitated until the pounding at his door pulled him from the state of shock.

“Keith?!”

“Yeah..” he managed to grumble. The boy squinted his eyes at the sunlight peeking through his window blinds, wiping away at the moisture upon his forehead.

“Keith!! Are you awake?! You’re going to be late!!” The voice called out once again.

“Yes!” the boy exclaimed, more alert. “Jesus Christ..” he muttered beneath his breath, scratching at the dark mess that was his hair.

Keith slowly but surely made his way out of the warmth of his bed, peeling off the grey sleep shirt that was doused in sweat. After a quick and much-needed shower, he dressed. He reached into the wooden drawer of his dresser, taking out a brand new maroon cardigan and navy uniform pants. He walked over to his closet to grab the long sleeved white Oxford that hung closest. The only good thing about attending a private school, he reckoned, was that he wouldn’t have to fret over his choice of wardrobe in a day and age that seemed to revolve around such petty things. He was never very good at fashion.

Hi walked over to his closet mirror for a final look-over. When he finally had everything in place he realized something was missing. From the top of his dresser he grabbed a striped navy tie and wrapped it around his neck. He had practiced tying it several times in the past week, all in preparation for this day, but still, he couldn’t get it right. It was the only occasion aside from his brother’s funeral that he’d ever had to wear a tie. He walked down the stairs and into the kitchen with a defeated expression, sulking over the loose fabric that hung around his neck.

“Oh my...Aren’t you handsome as ever?” Emily stood at the sink when Keith entered, just finishing the last few dishes that were left over from her morning cooking. She looked as if she was about to cry. It wouldn’t be surprising if she did, since Emily tended to get choked up over even the smallest of things.

“Um, could you…?” Keith tugged at his unfastened tie.

“Oh, honey!” Emily rushed over to her son’s side. “Seems like only yesterday I was helping Shiro with his tie for the first time. Don’t worry, you’ll eventually learn,” she reassured him with a sad smile, working the thin strip of fabric with ease. Keith tried to ignore the pang in his chest.

“How do you even know how to tie one?” He couldn’t help but wonder, considering he hadn’t had a father figure for most of his life.

“Your grandmother taught me, actually.” she admitted. “Not sure why, but she taught me many random and seemingly useless things when I was young. But, you know what, looks like it’s starting to pay off.” Emily smiled. Keith forced a chuckle.

“Thanks.”

“Come on, you only have fifteen minutes to eat before the cab gets here.”

Keith picked at the toast and scrambled eggs that took up the plate before him, but found it almost impossible to eat as anticipation tugged at him. He was to begin life at a new school today, and convincing his mother to transfer to boarding school was hardly a simple matter . He glanced at the two suitcases near in the hallway.

“I can’t believe you’re really going,” Emily gave her son a sad smile. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt at her words. He was all she had, and as distant as they had grown over the past years, Keith still had second thoughts about leaving his mother by herself.

The sound of a car pulling up onto the driveway broke Keith from his apologetic thoughts.

“That must be the driver. Have everything?” Emily questioned as Keith hustled to gather his things.

“Yeah. Think I’m good.”

A teary-eyed Emily grabbed her son and pulled him into a tight embrace. She held him long, and the affection made Keith uncomfortable, but he appeased her, knowing he wouldn’t see her again until the holidays.

“Make me proud, alright?”

“Yeah.” Keith finally pulled away and headed towards the door. “Love you.” He tried to sound like he meant it.

Before he could receive a ‘love you’ back, Keith was out the door.

 

***

 

After a short car-ride to the station, Keith found himself situated at a window seat in the far back of the train, thankful it wasn’t too crowded. The last thing he needed was to spend the next several hours forcing small talk with a stranger seated next to him. He pulled on his headphones, hoping his music would make the five hour trip go by more quickly. Keith disliked long trips very much; they usually made him antsy, and he found it nearly impossible for him to sleep in any sort of moving vehicle.

He looked out the window, but there wasn’t much to see to distract him either. Only flat fields and occasional trees came into view. As much as he tried to become preoccupied with his music, images from last night’s sleep kept reappearing in his mind.

He thought about the boy. He had never seen him before, which concerned Keith somewhat. Rarely did he dream about people he had never seen before, or of such a dramatic scene. It started happening shortly over a year ago. For some bizarre reason, Keith began having dreams that would come true. The dreams were of insignificant matters, and initially occurred so infrequently he passed them off as mere coincidences or deja-vu.

In one of the first he remembers, he dreamt he would come across a stray tabby on the way to school, and two days later he did. Another time he dreamt that Mrs. Soma from down the street would paint her mailbox a ghastly pink color, and she did, almost a week later. Even that time, Keith dismissed the coincidence because the elderly woman had always been rather fond of the color. It was only a matter of time before she painted her mailbox to match her unsightly pink picket fence.

But, Keith’s life was too busy to linger on thoughts of nonsense. There was no sensical way to explain this phenomenon, and he strayed as best as he could from the idea that he were possibly mad. He believed that special “abilities” or psychic “powers” were only a thing of fiction, but his dreams continued, and more frequently at that.

Still, he didn’t have the time to wonder.

Keith had spent his entire life preparing to enter the same academy his brilliant older brother had attended. He’d spent the past few years only arguing and begging Emily to let him attend. He’d passed the entrance exams and interviews as an incoming first year student. He’d done it behind Emily’s back of course, knowing surely well of his mother’s disapproval. After Shiro’s disappearance, nothing was the same. After enough time had passed, it was safe for almost everyone to presume Shiro was gone for good. He was dead, even with no found body and countless hours of empty investigation. It was as if he’d just dropped off the face of the planet, without a trace. Even though for Keith, Shiro didn’t die, he went missing. And Keith still held onto the thinnest string of hope that his brother was out there, and attending the academy would bring him a baby step closer to finding him.

Meanwhile, all their mother could do was excessively blame herself for allowing Shiro to go off on his own at such a young age. Every other night she drowned her sorrows in what started with a half bottle of cabernet and progressed to a full bottle to two bottles. Keith heard her cries nightly through the thin walls of their home. She blamed herself for years and vowed she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. But for Keith, everything grew suffocating. The tighter she held on, the more distant their relationship became. He nearly couldn’t believe it when on his seventeenth birthday last year, he asked for, or rather demanded his mother’s permission to leave and she reluctantly gave in.

 

_“Oh, Keith. Please, no more. You know my answer, and you are only making me so much more exhausted with this.”_

_“I got in. Look. See that score? See this letter? I got in, and transfer acceptances are incredibly rare as it is. Doesn’t that say something to you?? I’ve worked hard my entire life, and this is the only thing I’ve ever asked from you. You can’t keep me bottled up in this house my whole life! The harder you hold on, the worse it’s going to get, mom.”_

_“Keith, I just-”_

_“You’re scared, yes. I know. I know that so, so well. But, I lost him too, okay? And I’m not going to let that hold me back from achieving my dream that I’ve worked so hard for...And I’m not going to ask you anymore. At this point, I’m going, whether you say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”_

_She smiled softly. With that soft, pained smile, she gave all the permission he’d needed._

_“Shiro would be proud.”_

 

The academy was very different from other schools because unlike other schools, this school was open only to a miniscule fragment of the population. It was a school where only the most brilliant and skilled had the privilege to study at. The students at the academy were the cream of the crop in their content areas. Essentially, it was a school for the gifted.

But, Keith didn’t like that word, “gifted.” He didn’t believe in such a thing. To him, there was no such thing as a student with an unbelievable innate talent or ability. There was no such thing as an artistic or athletic prodigy who didn’t spend every waking moment of their time in practice. What he believed in was hard work, dedication, and passion.

His passion was in the arts. He had been drawing for most of his life, and it was his favorite thing to do. Rather than taking a photograph, he preferred to draw the moments he wished to capture. He carried his sketchbook with him anywhere he went, and even though he abhorred interaction, people were ironically his favorite thing to draw. His sketchbooks were filled with the faces of strangers who’d piqued his interest. Keith didn’t say much, but he was an observant individual, with a strangely precise memory. He could memorize the features of one’s face quite immediately, and to him, each face told a different story. Still, he never got close. He had learned that people were much more tolerable from a distance.

Keith thought about how badly he wanted to draw the attractive boy from his dream. Despite the grisly setting, Keith wasn’t sure if he was to feel intrigued or frightened. He tried to ignore the potential of it actually occurring, like many of his other dreams in the past year. However, none of them were of this degree, and this particular one involved a stranger his mind seemed to have made up. He thought about what it could mean, if anything at all. Something about the blue eyed boy was inexplicably striking, and quite oddly...familiar. Never had he seen him before, and yet, Keith couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew him from somewhere.

Keith shook his head.

_If I’d seen a face like that, I would have definitely remembered._

He sighed and looked out the window, trying to distract himself from thinking in circles. He focused on the heavy clouds in the sky, thinking of the shapes in which each one resembled. It only helped slightly.


	2. Boy of His Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Pidge appears. 
> 
> And my blue eyed boy arrives~

Keith arrived to his new school’s dormitory as it rained. He was grateful he had remembered to bring an umbrella, just in case. He’d visited the campus to see Shiro once or twice before, and thanks to his meticulous memory he didn’t have any trouble navigating through the large school. Rather than a high school, it resembled that of a college campus. Aside from the dormitory area, the campus consisted of four main parts, which coincided with the main areas of study that the academy had to offer.

Students who enter the academy receive an accelerated general education in addition to a specialized education in the study they were admitted to: visual arts, performing arts, language arts, and science technology. The science technology branch of study is most competitive. Knowing his brother, it was unsurprising that Shiro had been at the top of that branch.

Despite there being four branches of study, however, the dormitory assignments were purposely mixed. Students of one area were situated with students of another. Looking at the dampened room assignment paper, Keith learned his roommate was part of the science technology department.

“Hey,” Keith uttered in his attempt to greet his new roommate. He’d opened the door to the sight of a small person with wild auburn hair typing furiously at the keyboard in front of them. Their back was still turned to Keith, even as he entered the room and attempted (somewhat) to introduce himself.

With no response or acknowledgement from the small creature, Keith decided to try once more. Perhaps he (she?) didn’t hear him.

“Uh, I’m Keith...Your new-”

“Pidge.”

“Huh?”

Finally the creature turned around.

“I’m Pidge,” she spoke.

“You’re a...girl?” Keith glanced back down at his room assignment in hand, wondering if he had entered the wrong room.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m very gay.” She smiled. Large round frames sat upon her button nose, and if her hair looked wild from behind, it definitely looked untamed from the front. Keith suddenly felt slightly better about the awful mullet he’d started to grow recently. But, the mess on her head strangely suited her.

“Okay…” Keith shifted awkwardly. He wanted to ask how he’d managed a girl for a roommate, but she seemed quite nonchalant.

“You’re probably wondering how you managed a girl for a roommate?” Her smile widened, and Keith wondered if she could read minds. But before he could nod his head, she continued.

“I hacked the system.” A mischievous glint flickered in her large brown eyes.

“What? Seriously?”

“Nah,” she giggled. “Well the academy, despite its prestige, is actually pretty lackadaisical about this sort of thing. It’s a simple matter, really. I only had to mark my identification as male on the rooming application. The tricky part now is not getting caught.”

“Oh. Yeah, that is, uh, pretty simple.”

“I think it’s probably simpler to room with a guy rather than a girl. I dormed with a girl last year at my middle school and it was pretty awful.”

“Middle school? Wait, how old are you?” Keith recognized she looked fairly young, but he didn’t realize the academy placed mixed grade level room assignments.

“I’m a first year. Guess they don’t give assignments based on year.”

“Guess not. I’m a-”

“Fourth year, I know.” Keith shifted from awkward to slight concern. The room assignments may have mentioned name and branch of study, but definitely didn't mention information beyond that.

“Yeah, how did you-”

“I also know you’re a transfer student. One of two this year, to be precise. And you’re in the visual arts department, well that part was already mentioned on the room assignment paper. Also, your favorite food is spaghetti and meatballs. You listen to The Smiths and a bunch of sad indie music. You’re also a black belt in taekwondo, and your favorite color is red.”

Keith stared dumbfoundedly at Pidge. Surely, he had every right to feel very concerned at this point.

“Okay. I’m admittedly a little freaked out.”

“It’s called research, Keith. Maybe you should reconsider the privacy options on your social media.”

“Wait, then how did you know my favorite color was red?”

“Lucky guess.” she shrugged and turned back to her glowing computer screen.

 

***

 

The day after move-in was dedicated to student orientations. Keith had to attend three total: one for new students, one for his academic branch, and a mandatory rules and regulations orientation for the entire student body. The day dragged on, but at least some of the information seemed useful and the teachers appeared interesting enough.

Then came the first day of classes. Keith had been actually looking forward to his art classes, but a severe lack of sleep the previous night had him groaning when his alarm sounded at 7AM. He had dreamt about _him_ , again, but this time was completely different from the first.

The dream was less clear this time, as Keith could only remember bits and pieces upon waking. However, the bits he did recall had his pulse racing.

The boy appeared just as he had in the first dream, or nightmare rather, with the exception of the blood and stab wounds. He maintained the same distinct features; freckles still decorated his small nose, wispy brown locks still framed the warmth of his face, and his eyes were still a deep and calming blue. Everything was the same, except this time his skin glowed and his eyes gleamed with liveliness. This time Keith was allowed a glimpse of how the boy looked when he was alive. The most vivid piece he remembers from the dream was how the boy smiled. He saw the boy laugh, although his laughter could not be heard. Even so, Keith could not shake how spectacular and beautiful the image was.

And that was how someone Keith had never met, someone who had most possibly been fabricated by his mind, kept Keith up for most of the night.

Keith went through his entire morning routine while consciously trying to piece together the parts of his dream he’d forgotten. Obscurity was unusual when it came to Keith’s dreams. He credited the reason to his dreaming of a boy who was nonexistent. It was probably impossible to have such a solid grasp on dreams that only consisted of fantasy.

When Keith finally made it to his 8AM class, he had only a minute to spare. The last thing he wanted was to show up to class late and draw attention to himself.

Unsurprisingly, the classroom was mostly filled. Two vacant seats were left and Keith decided to take the one closest to the entrance. Suddenly, Keith felt excited. He took in the circle of chairs and easels that surrounded a small platform at the center. This was his first time taking an anatomical drawing class, and people were his favorite subject to draw.  
The teacher began the class promptly, and spent the first fifteen minutes explaining the syllabus and the requirements of the course (in presumably a French accent). She explained that each week a new guest would model for the class for students to perfect their skills in drawing body parts of all shapes and sizes. Of course one of the students asked if the models would be naked, which was honestly what most of the class was probably wondering.

“As this is a high school course, no. The models will not be naked. However, to give you all the most possible to work with, the models have consented to only be covered in those areas that require privacy. Again, this is for the sole purpose of education. Students who choose not to take this class seriously or depict immature behavior will be immediately dismissed.”

Keith wondered briefly how the art department selected models for this course. Surely, they must be professional models.

“Now that that is settled, I’d like to get an idea of what talents I’ll be working with this quarter,” the teacher explained (Keith had already forgotten her name). “We have our first guest model with us today. His name is Lance, and he is also a student at the academy. For this assignment, I’d like you all to merely draw what you see, and this will give me a stronger idea of your strengths and weaknesses. The assignment will be collected at the end of the week.”

Keith took his pencils, charcoal, and sharpener out of his art supply bag. He hadn’t expected to be drawing already on the first day, but considered himself lucky he remembered to bring his supplies anyway. From the looks of it, the other students came prepared to draw as well.

In the midst of sharpening his pencil, the model walked in and took a stand on the small centered platform. The moment Keith looked up, both his pencil and his stomach dropped to the floor.

He sat frozen in place as he met eyes with the very pivot of his recent dreams. He didn’t even register that his pencil had rolled out on the floor in front of him. Nor did he register that the boy named Lance had picked up the pencil and was currently attempting to return the tool. Keith wondered if he was dreaming.

“Uh, you okay?”

“H-huh? What?” Keith muttered, snapping out of his daze.

“I said, you dropped your pencil…”

Keith suddenly noticed the arm reached out in front of him, offering the fallen pencil with long, slender fingers.

“Oh.” Keith took the pencil, and was now suddenly hyper aware of the situation and all of the eyes that were now focused on him. He felt them burning holes into his flesh. He heard a giggle from the far side of the room, and a few indistinct whispers. His face felt hot.

“Thanks,” Keith added. Lance returned a small smile before taking his place back to the center platform.

Keith tried to set his thoughts aside for the next hour, but internally he was a mess. He couldn’t process the fact that the featured person of his most recent dreams, somebody he initially believed to be a product of his mind, was now standing in front of him. His name was Lance, and he was real. He existed. And he was nearly naked. Very, very, nearly naked.

His teacher wasn’t lying when she said the models would be only covered in areas that “require privacy.” The only single piece of clothing Lance wore was a pair of distractingly form-fitting navy underwear briefs, and he appeared every bit of confident in them.

As if the situation wasn’t overwhelming enough, Lance was even more beautiful in person than in Keith’s dreams. He was tall and slim, but toned in the right areas. His shoulders were broad and his legs elegantly long. Soft bronze skin, adorned with small moles and freckles, glowed with warmth from all angles. He was physically breathtaking in every sense. An artist’s dream.

Even so, Keith’s mind only continued to spiral in circles for the entire class period. He grew increasingly dizzy, and it definitely didn’t help that Lance kept looking his way, making occasional eye contact. It took every ounce of Keith's concentration to focus on the assignment while fighting the blush he could feel fighting its way to his face. Keith wondered if this was similar to his other dreams. He wondered if he’d dreamt of Lance because they were bound to meet, just like the other strange things that came true shortly after he’d dreamt of them. But if that were the case, if Keith were to accept the fact that his dreams did mean something, that he holds some unbelievable sense of psychic ability in his dreams, then what could his first dream possibly have meant? Why did he dream that Lance was...dead?

A shudder ran through Keith’s body. He didn’t want to accept it. He didn’t want to accept the fact that he’d dreamt of a very real possibility. Besides, it wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare. A dramatic and disturbing nightmare that couldn’t possibly hold any truth. Keith wondered if it were possible the dream held figurative rather than literal meaning. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that in some way, Lance could be in danger.

Or maybe, Keith thought, he was just insane. Insanity suddenly felt comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make Keith an art student for the mere sake of an awkward anatomical drawing class moment featuring Lance as the model? We may never know.


End file.
